Harry Potter and The Rise of Voldemort
by Writerrenegade
Summary: It has been twenty years since the day Harry Potter was killed by Voldemort in their famous last battle. Twenty years since the day he rose to power. Now, the fate of the world rests on two people:Hermione Granger, the last remaining rebel and a wanted fugitive, and Draco Malfoy, a Death Eater who can’t seem to shake the past.


_Prologue_

Time seemed to stand still. The Great Hall, only moments ago filled with duels and shouts, was now filled with utter silence as friend and foe alike stopped to witness the climax of their endeavors, a duel of great importance; the duel of Harry Potter and Voldemort.

The spectators, out of respect, formed a loose circle around the duelers, so that it was more of an oval, but nevertheless allowed adequate space for the enemies as they circled each other like cats, waiting for an opportunity to strike. The people watching supported either the boy or the powerful, snake-like wizard circling him. The boy in question was not much; he was scrawny and his hair disheveled, the result of many a month on the run, and he wore an expression of exhaustion, understandable given that he had almost died today and been forced to watch many of his friends and loved ones perish. The wizard, whose skin was a skeletal white, contained two slits where his nose should have been, and radiated an aura of pure power. His expression was one of pure hatred, as he looked upon the face of the enemy who had previously thwarted his rise to power and rendered him helpless, a shell of himself. For years he had sworn vengeance and now the time had come to get his revenge. The tension, which had been building up in the room, burst, with the two wizards simultaneously firing their spells.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _Voldemort screamed.

"_Expelliarmus!" _Harry shouted.

The room was blinded as the two spells, red and green, shot out of the wizards' wand in a brilliant stream and met in the middle, turning white-hot as it steamed and spat pure energy, scattering many close bystanders and burning others. The force created pushed the two dueling wizards apart, who were now gripping their wands with both hands in an effort to stand their ground. The boy grit his teeth together, willing with every fiber of his being that white-hot ball of energy into Voldemort's wand. Voldemort, his mouth frozen open in an inaudible scream, a scream of bloodlust and vengeance, willed his lethal killing spell into Harry's wand. For a few fleeting moments, both assailants held equal ground.

Harry, who had not been eating as well as he once was before he was forced on the run to escape the clutches of the corrupted wizard government, had lost much weight and muscle mass. Therefore, despite his best efforts, and the shouted support of his friends and comrades, he knew he simply could not maintain the spell for long. Voldemort, sensing this, laughed coldly, knowing it was only a matter of time before his little enemy fell. That being said, it must have been quite the surprise when the white-hot ball of energy began to shift towards Voldemort. Harry, adrenaline rushing through him, stepped forward. This was a mistake.

Harry, who had tried to go against the force of the energy pushing him back, lost his footing. His friends watched in horror as he fell backwards in what seemed like slow motion. This fall, which under different circumstances would have been inconsequential, was enough to break his concentration, and as a result, the ball of white-hot energy rushed towards him, hitting him square in the chest. Someone in the crowd screamed.

Voldemort, whose spell had overpowered Harry's, approached him cautiously. After all, the last time he had tried to kill Harry, not an hour ago, the spell had not worked. He picked up Harry's limp hand, feeling for a pulse. The crowd watched in anticipation. Some sobbed loudly. Voldemort, smiling maniacally, dropped Harry's hand and cackled an evil laugh.

Harry Potter was dead.

_Hermione_

_20 years later_

Hermione jolted awake as the tube seemed to hit a bump on the tracks. Disoriented, she took in her surroundings, instinctively reaching into her coat pocket for her wand. She was on a well-lit car, her portable blanket draped over her. Around her, various muggles paid her no mind as they checked their phones and listened to music, though the occasional mother would give her a wary glance before returning her attention to her child. Stretching, she glanced down at her watch. Five o' clock. She cursed, earning a dirty look from a young mother of three sitting across from her, to which she paid no mind. If she didn't get off this train and start moving soon, her assassins would find her. She hastily folded up her blanket and stuffed it into her little backpack, her only belonging besides her wand, and grabbed the pole at the end of the row of seats. Unfortunately, she would have to wait for the train to stop at the next station, or risk having the attention of the muggles on the tube drawn to her as she apparated out. She pulled up her hood, masking her trademark bushy brown hair, and frowned in distaste as the train jolted again with the same amount of force that woke her up. The others on the train felt the same, conferring nervously in hushed tones. There was something wrong here, and everyone on the train could feel it. Hermione tensed, clutching her concealed wand.

At once, without warning, her tube car filled with wispy black smoke as two figures materialized. They wore long, black robes and their faces were concealed by gilded masks. The people on the tube, startled by their sudden appearance, started. Some ran, others screamed, frozen in fear. Hermione, hoping to avoid them, pulled her hood around her ears and melted in with the panicked crowd. Then she heard a voice that made her stomach drop.

"She's somewhere on this train."

The voice belonged to Antonin Dolohov, a prominent Death Eater known for his mass muggle killings all. It turned Hermione's blood to fire as she remembered her and Ron's last walk in a deserted muggle park before his eyes opened wide in surprise as he fell, without warning, face down. Shell-shocked, Hermione had looked up to the grass behind Ron's now-dead body to see Dolohov, wand outstretched, his shiny golden mask discarded and full face in view. She barely escaped with her life that night, and it had launched her into a life of solitude, constantly looking over her shoulder to see when the Death Eaters would come and finish the job.

"Let's have some fun," said the other Death Eater ominously, her voice high and melodic. Hermione was not familiar with this one, and figured she must be a new recruit. After all, there was no shortage of scared young witches and wizards, and Voldemort needed an army. The Death Eater began to fire random hexes upon the terrified muggles as she laughed with glee. If it had been a few decades prior, this outright attack would have been stopped by the Department of Magical Law Enforcment, but ever since Voldemort rose to power, his Death Eaters ran unchecked, committing terrible crimes upon muggles.

"_Crucio!" _Dolohov yelled, pointing his wand at the fleeing crowd. A man in a suit dropped his steaming latte and fell to the floor, writhing. Hermione stopped in her tracks, seeing red. She was tired of running. Tired of hiding. Tired of standing by as innocent people were killed. All around her, a sea of muggles, old and young alike, ran, desperately trying to escape, but Hermione stood still. She didn't care if they were trying to draw her out into a trap. She would kill that crazy bastard once and for all.

"_Stupefy!" _She screamed, whipping around with her wand, not daring to use the lethal killing curse in such close quarters, where it could bounce off the metal walls and hit a muggle. She savored the look of utter surprise on Dolohov's face as the spell hit him, sending him flying backwards into a poster advertising life insurance. The surprise didn't last long, however.

"Get the girl!" He growled to his partner, spitting speckles of blood onto his robe. The masked woman, who had previously been cackling as she levitated a terrified old lady, whipped around.

"Well look who we have here," she sang with glee. "If it isn't Undesirable Number One." Hermione fired another stunning spell out of her wand, running to the back of the tube to make a smaller target. The. Death Eater deflected it with a mere flick of her wrist.

"Can't have you getting away," She said with finality. "_Crucio!"_

Hermione, who had been backed into a corner, was hit full on with the spell. She screamed, falling to the floor as she was consumed with white-hot pain. Her vision turned spotty, and her head felt like it was splitting open over and over again. She wished that she could black out as to numb the pain momentarily, but the sadistic Death Eater would allow no such thing. The woman laughed as Hermione tried to crawl away, shouting the crutacius curse once again and triggering a new wave of pain. Hermione could not think, could not speak. At once, as quick as it started, the pain subsided. Hermione panted, her eyes fluttering.

"The Dark Lord's going to want to see you personally," The Death Eater said, crouching down to look at her. "We've been looking for quite a long time. But it was only a matter of time after Dolohov got that blood traitor-"

Hermione, once again proving apt with the element of surprise, wrapped her hands around the Death Eater's throat, ripping off the gilded mask. The girl underneath looked to be not much younger than her. Her small round face was covered with freckles and framed with short black hair. Her eyes went wide as she choked and spluttered.

"His name. Was. Ronald Weasley." she growled. The Death Eater raised her wand and apparated away with a faint _pop! _Leaving Hermione on the train with Dolohov, who had crawled to his feet and now had his wand pointed at her throat. The same exact one he used to kill Ron. He's going to finish the job, Hermione thought.

"The Dark Lord will punish Ava for her cowardice. But as for you..." He smiled coldly. "Any last words?" Hermione had quite a few things she wanted to say to him in that moment, but forced herself to remain calm, strategizing a way out. If she acted quickly, she could apparate out of the tube to safety. She stuffed her hands into her coat pocket, trying to conceal their tremble, and glared back at him.

"Voldemort won't get away with this," she vowed. Dolohov looked at her with disbelief. His small eyes squinted as he began to laugh heartily, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Who's going to stop him?" he laughed. "You? And what army? In case you hadn't noticed, you're the last pesky rebel left. There is no where that you can go where we can't find you!"

"Maybe," said Hermione. She tried to calm her racing thoughts and envision a safe place in her mind, letting it take shape as she prepared to make the jump. Dolohov, seeing her panic turn into resolve, realized her plan too late.

"No!" He shouted, but Hermione had already raised her wand. "_Sectumsempra!" _Hermione apparated away as she was hit with the spell. At once, she was met with darkness and familiar sensation of being pulled by invisible ropes. When she thought she could bear it no more, she felt the ropes release as she landed on soft forest foliage. When she opened her eyes, she could hear the call of evening birds, and feel the warmth of the brilliant afternoon sun on her skin. The air was crisp but bearable, a nice comfort after being in the underground London Tubes for such a long time. This comfort didn't last long however, as the full effects of the spell began to sink in.

It was as if a sharp sword had been run across her chest, leaving behind a throbbing line of pain. Based on the pain in her side, she thought the spell may have broken a rib or two, but she couldn't be sure, as the pain was everywhere. Minutes passed by in silence, save for the soft bird calls in the distance, as she lay there, her breathing becoming more labored. Eventually, her eyes fluttered closed.

_No, _she thought._ I can't die here._ With difficulty she opened her eyes, prodding her stomach in an effort to asses the damage. When she brought her hands away, they were covered in dark blood. The sight made her queasy. She gritted her teeth, ignoring the fresh wave of pain as she sat up. She knew that she had to find a safe place to hide if she was going to lose Dolohov. Her only option, however difficult, was to walk herself there. Head spinning, she glanced to the distance, where a large castle loomed. She would be safe there, if only for a few moments.

The ruins of Hogwarts.


End file.
